


i know you feel the way i do

by raikkonen (armario)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/raikkonen
Summary: All things come to an end, and Checo had never failed to come to his senses.





	i know you feel the way i do

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'feel the way i do' by the jungle giants   
hope you like it ;) (this was supposed to be a drabble !!)

Tension can only build for so long until something snaps. Or that's what Esteban told himself to justify this- or rather, how it came about. He was certain in his conviction that he'd do it properly, build up the courage, build up Checo's trust. He saw that Checo wouldn't be easy to convince, or open to convincing, or even aware that Esteban wanted to convince him. They would be good together and he'd make Checo see it. He sneered at himself for dreaming about expensive candlelit dinners and elaborate bouquets of flowers with hidden, complex meanings. He was in over his head, but he wasn't ashamed, just dead set on shooting his shot properly.

It was late but they'd stayed past the briefing to have some questions answered about what was available for them in the car.

Checo seemed tense. Not the kind of uptight, uncooperative tension that Esteban loved to play around with, but a frustrated, disappointed tension that set alarm bells ringing in his head.

He looked around. There was no one that he could see; just Checo walking briskly ahead.

"You okay?"

He got close. Close enough to inadvertently disclose his intentions, because Checo looked at him with an expression of reckless determination. Esteban tried, nonchalant, to count his freckles, but then he was being pulled into a kiss- which he immediately bent helpfully down to accommodate, because he had been fantasising about it for months.

Checo broke it off as soon as he initiated it, breathing hard, fear plain on his features. He looked as though he couldn't believe what he'd just done. Esteban almost laughed. Of course he couldn't. 

"Please don't tell anyone. I'm so sorry. That will never happen again."

Esteban offered a lopsided smile. "I hope that's not the case," he said, and closed the distance again.

Checo's whole body was tensed to pull away to a safe distance if someone saw them. Even though it was dark, someone else could easily have been as held up as they were, and the shadows weren't deep enough to disguise them yet. His hands shifted restlessly from their position on Esteban's waist, and when he kissed back, it was nervous and uncertain.

"No one can see us," the Frenchman reassured him. He didn't _know_ that, nor care if they could. He wanted this almost as much as he wanted a race win. His tone held a softness to it, not one Checo associated with his closest rival, and it was making him breathless; just the hint that there could be more to this than illicit liaisons behind bathroom cubicle doors.

Esteban's hands cradled Checo's face. He couldn't stop smiling. Checo never imagined anyone would look at him like that, and the implications terrified him. The desire was something he could repress; had done for long enough- but it wasn't desire that was shining and reflected in Esteban's dark eyes; it was a nameless promise of something stronger and more enduring.

Checo leaned up to kiss him again, chasing and finding that sense of belonging, a strange mix of tenderness and passion. Esteban made a soft noise of approval, tracing Checo's cheekbones with his thumbs, trying to keep the kiss tender as it turned heated and messy, the more Checo allowed himself to let go.

All things come to an end, and Checo had never failed to come to his senses. The haze of guilt descended in the same way bloodlust descended on sharks in a feeding frenzy. He felt just as inhuman.

"We can't do this," Checo said abruptly, sounding utterly disgusted. He pulled away. Esteban was frozen in place, missing that brief warmth of being so close; a warmth that transcended further than just the physical. He wanted to be angry that Checo would play with him like this, but he could only summon sorrow and pity. It's only six or so years between them, but at times like that, it felt like fifty. Checo comes from a world where there's almost no greater sin than what they just did. Esteban could almost smell it; the guilt, the heart-rending revulsion directed inwards for wanting another man.

In the coming weeks, Esteban lay awake thinking up the counterarguments he should have made instead of watching Checo walk away; with an aching, sharp yearning for him that if he thought was strong before, was now magnified tenfold.


End file.
